


Odds on the Future

by Fairia



Series: An Unlikely Friendship [4]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: #SpankHawkmoth, Fluff, Gen, Majorca is fun to say, Never Say Never, when I grow up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 08:55:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12186882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fairia/pseuds/Fairia
Summary: Career Day at school was inspiring: it inspired Sabrina's dad to be akumatized, it inspired the teacher to hand out more homework, and it inspired two superheroes to discuss their future plans.Part of the Unlikely Friendship Universe





	Odds on the Future

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Nino still has a potty mouth. Don't worry; Mama Cheng's got it handled.

“‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’ What is this, élémentaire?” Nino groaned, leaning back in his chair dramatically. 

“If this were first form, this would be a lot easier to do” Alya grumbled. “It would be, like, two sentences long.”

“Now they want _two pages.”_ Marinette lamented. 

“At least we have a few days?” Adrien tried to sound positive.

Really, he wasn’t as upbeat as he was trying to appear. Career day had been an epic failure, even before Chloe’s dad had managed to get Mon. Raincomprix akumatized. He knew it had been on his father’s schedule - he’d asked Nathalie to put it in _weeks_ ago, and she’d told him that the time was cleared. And sure, he hadn’t actually _seen_ his father long enough to ask if he’d be there - it was just five minutes at a photoshoot that Gabriel had stopped by to check on - but he’d asked the day before and the appointment was still in there. His dad just...hadn’t shown.

Maybe it was for the best, what with the akuma attack and all. 

Still, disappointment and hurt sat like a lead ball in his chest every time he thought of it: and with this stupid assignment, he’d had to think of it a lot.

“So, what have we got first?” He asked, smiling brightly. “An outline? Easy enough.”

“Oh, and what are all of you rising stars aspiring to be?” Mme. Cheng asked, setting a plate of sandwiches in the middle of the table.

“Thanks, Mamman!” Marinette smiled, echoed by her friends. “A fashion designer, of course.”

“Always.” Sabine smiled. “A...journalist, Alya?”

“Hmm. That’s the easy answer.” Alya leaned back. “But...since starting the Ladyblog, I’m kind of...disappointed? I guess, with the media and news systems.”

“Really?” Marinette seemed surprised. “You never said.”

“Eh, it’s not relevant most days.” Alya waved it away. “Just once in awhile, like when they ask for footage, and then edit it to fit the angle they’re going for. It feels kind of false. I still want to do journalism, but I’m not sure in what _form_ exactly. So I’m saying generic ‘journalism’ for now.”

“And you work on the school paper and help run social media, so you’ve got a good basis for it.” Adrien added, pleased when Alya shot him a grin.

“We all know I’m going to be a DJ.” Nino nodded. “Music’s in my soul, man.”

Sabine smiled at Nino fondly before looking at Adrien. “And you, dear?”

“Well…” Adrien frowned at his pencil. “I don’t know. Keep being a model I guess.”

“You guess?” Alya’s eyebrow quirked. “Is that what you want to do?”

Adrien shrugged. “Sure. I mean, it’s all lined up for me. It’d be a crime if I didn’t.”

Four sets of eyes regarded him.  

“Not that I’m disagreeing with you, man.” Nino said slowly. “Because, honestly, you kind of won the genetic lottery and your dad is a world-famous designer. But you don’t sound really enthused about it.”

“So, I mean, what do you want to do?” Marinette’s eyes were looking straight at him - something that didn’t happen often, and Adrien shifted uneasily under their intensity.

“Ah...I like physics.” He temporized. He knew damn well what he _wanted_ , but it wasn’t really a career choice. Not to mention they would probably laugh, and Nino would use his hypothetical Man Card to hypothetically remove his balls and give them to someone more worthy, like Alya or Marinette.

“I like math and science and figuring out how things work.” He added, because everyone seemed to be waiting for him to continue. Which was odd, because this wasn’t a question that usually came up. Ever. People automatically assumed he’d just follow his dad. “How light wavelengths make colors appear, how decay happens...Chat Noir’s baton. That’s pretty cool, and I’d love to know why it works.”

“...Magic?” Marinette ventured.

Adrien opened his mouth to reply, but Nino cut him off.

“Wait. Wait wait _wait._ ” Nino leaned forward, hands waving expressively. “Your dad is a world famous _clothing artist._ You are a _model_ : you deal in lighting and angles and textures and makeup _all day_. You know the difference between cream and ivory. _You play the piano_. Your entire _world_ is like, variations of _art_...are you telling me that you are _left-brained as shit?”_

Sabine rolled her eyes and smacked the back of Nino’s head. “Language.” She admonished.

“Sorry, ma’am.” Nino apologized, then turned back to Adrien.

Adrien wanted to ask how left-brained was “shit” exactly? And if he hadn’t thought Marinette’s mom would smack him too, he might have. Instead, he only shrugged.

“Training.” It wouldn’t do to say that all those things were what his dad wanted him to do: that sounded way too much ‘whiny rich boy’ and he wasn’t going to go there. “You’ll pick up anything that you’re exposed to long enough. I mean...Marinette.”

“Y-yes?” She blinked at him. 

“Your parents are bakers. You live in a bakery. Can you bake?” He asked. 

“Well… yes. Of course I can. I help out.” Marinette replied. 

“So are you a baker?” Adrien pressed. 

“Well…” Marinette glanced at her mom, who was still observing the group. “No. I enjoy baking, and helping, but it isn’t what I want to do forever. And my parents know that.”

“So you’re just...helping your dad out with the family business?” Nino looked confused.

“That’s...one way to put it. I’m sure he expects me to continue.” Adrien shrugged, and tried not to feel bitter that his future had been completely planned without his input. “But if I had a choice, it wouldn’t be what I would do.”  
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“What do you want to do when you’re older?”

“What?” Chat frowned, turning to his partner. 

“When you grow up.” Ladybug expounded. “What do you want to do?”

“You mean besides save Paris, spank Hawkmoth and have a national holiday dedicated to me?” Chat asked cheekily. “I’m going to convince you to marry me, and run away to Majorca, of course.”

The two had just finished patrol, and were sitting on a small ledge jutting out from a roof. The ledge was ostentatious: it was too high up to protect the inhabitants of the apartment below from rain unless it was falling straight down, and it would offer pitiful protection from the sun, either. But it _looked_ nice, and made a nice seat to rest on. And since the family in the apartment below were an older couple who were in bed early, it was a good place to sit and chat inconspicuously. 

“You’re insufferable.” Ladybug reached out and shoved him. “I’m being serious.”

_Who said I wasn’t?_ Chat wanted to ask, but knew that she might _actually_ shove him off the roof if he did.

“What do you want to do?” He asked instead.

“Fashion designer.” She said. 

Chat blinked. “Gonna do a superhero clothing line?” He asked.

“Wouldn’t that be something!” She giggled. “And I may. After this is all over, and Hawkmoth is done, and I can pull my grades up enough to qualify for a university.”

“I could probably help with homework, if you’d let me.” Chat pointed out, knowing that Ladybug would shoot him down even as he said it. Since the whole Pharaoh incident where she figured out that her textbook was unique to her school, she’d been wary of showing him coursework or talking too much about it. But some days, it came up anyway, because outside of this, school was a major part of their lives.

“You didn’t answer me.” She said instead.

“My dad wants me to take over the family business.” Chat leaned back on his wrists and kicked his feet languidly. “So I haven’t really been asked to plan anything.”

Ladybug’s nose wrinkled. “Just like that? My parents own a business too, but they didn’t just _assume_ I would take it over from them.”

“Nice parents.” Chat replied flippantly.

“So what do you want to do?” Ladybug poked him in the shoulder.

“I like math and science. Physics. I could go to university for business administration.” Chat shrugged.

“I hate all of that.” Ladybug grimaced. “You should be my business manager then. I’ll design, you make sure the company doesn’t fall apart.”

Chat sniggered. “That doesn’t sound half bad, actually. What’s our brand?”

“I was thinking just a little ladybug.” Ladybug grinned. “Very trendy. Chic.”

“Why not a cat?” Chat pouted.

“I’m the designer.” Ladybug pointed out. 

“I’m making sure you’re in the black, financially.” Chat retorted.

_“Fine.”_ Ladybug sighed dramatically. “How about….Cat n’ bug?”

“Are you doing children’s clothes?” Chat asked.

“I could.” Ladybug shrugged. “But I prefer evening wear.”

“Then I would avoid that name.” Chat said. “‘Cat n’ bug’ sounds too cutesy for formal attire.”

“So...what? Ladynoir?” Ladybug sniggered.

“Could work. I’d have to see your designs to see if the name fits the aesthetic you’re trying to create.” 

“Well look at you go, Mon. Knowledgeable.” Ladybug grinned. “Maybe I’ll just follow Gabriel Agreste’s example and use my first name.”

“Which is…?” Chat asked leadingly.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“That’s a long first name.” Chat hummed. “Might need to abbreviate.”

“I’ll take it under advisement.” Ladybug deadpanned. “But don’t think you’ve distracted me.”

“From what?” Chat asked innocently.

“What do you want to do when you grow up?”

“I told you: I’m all set to take over the family business.” Chat replied.

“That’s not what _you_ want to do, is it?” Ladybug asked archly. “You said that’s what your _dad_ wanted.”

“I can go to university for business admin. I like numbers.” Chat shrugged. 

“Is that what you want?” Ladybug frowned. “Because that just sounds like you making the best of a situation to please your dad.”

“In a sense.” Chat admitted. “But it’s not displeasing to me.”

“But what do _you_ want?”

“Doesn’t really matter.”

“Why not?”

_“Why?”_ Chat frowned, irritated at her persistence. “I told you, it’s already pretty much a done deal, unless I want to be disowned.”

“Your dad would do that? Disown you because you didn’t do what _he_ wanted?” Ladybug was starting to sound upset.

“Don’t worry about it, Bug.” Chat tried for flippant, settled for casual, and turned to look out at the city. “Not your problem.”

Silence, and Chat eventually turned to see Ladybug frowning at him. “What?”

“Who are you?”

_“What?”_

“The Chat Noir I know has _never_ gone down without a fight.” Ladybug said vehemently. “And even when you’ve been down, I’ve never seen you _give up_. But this? What you’re saying? It’s like you never even _tried_.”

“You’re getting personal here, LB.” Chat said quietly, tail swishing in agitation.

“Only because you’re trying to play it off as no big deal!” Ladybug snapped. “Chat….do you _know_ what you want?”

It was an out. He could say “no, I’m still deciding” and that would probably be the end of it. He could laugh it off, say goodnight, and go home. And if it had been _anyone_ else, he would have.

But that had never been how he and Ladybug worked. 

Chat sighed and turned to face her. “If I tell you, you _will not_ laugh at me. I mean it, LB. This is something I’ve never told anyone else.”

Ladybug opened her mouth, probably with a snappy retort, but looked at him consideringly before closing her mouth and nodding. “I promise.”

“I could take over my dad’s business.” Chat began seriously. “I mean it: the idea isn’t really displeasing. I could be a physicist, or an accountant, or just...I don’t know, work in a bakery, and I’d be fine. The _job_ isn’t important, the _life_ is.”

“The...life.” Ladybug repeated, head tilted.

“Yeah.” Chat replied. “A job is just a job. As long as I’m good at it, it pays the bills and that’s great. I would only want a job to help provide for my family.”

“So you want...a family?”

“Family. Friends. _Possibly_ a white picket fence, but definitely a porch swing.” Chat shrugged. “I didn’t really have either for a long time. My mom is gone, and I see my dad’s secretary more than I see him. It’s _cold_ , Ladybug. I didn’t even know _how_ cold, until I had friends to help warm it. People who actually cared about _me_ and what I thought or wanted or felt. It’s great; I never want to give it up.

“So, yeah.” Chat continued awkwardly. “I don’t have a passion for an activity or job the way most people do. I just want the job so I can put my kids in sports, and then go watch them have fun. Or so I can hang out with friends, or go on a family vacation. My job is just a means to fund my _life_.”

“That’s…” Ladybug floundered. “I don’t even know. I feel kind of shallow, and I want to punch your dad in the face. Then I want to take you home and stuff you full of cookies.”

“Well, I don’t think you’re shallow, the thought of anyone slugging my dad is pretty comical, and I never say no to cookies.” Chat replied, chuckling.

“So...you’ve never told anyone this?” Ladybug asked. “I mean, really?”

“People don’t usually ask what I want.” Chat shrugged. “It’s just kind of a given. And when people _do_ ask, it’s usually like, my peers. My friends have all these grand plans about how they’re going to conquer the world, and I’m going to tell them...what? That what I really want is a wife and kids? They’ll take my man card for sure, and I’ll _never_ hear the end of it.”

“It does sound kind of unusual.” Ladybug admitted. “But is it really more unrealistic than, say, wanting to be an astronaut? Or a famous football player? Or a rock star? And people say those all the time, and nobody laughs.”

“That’s because everybody wants to be special. To be recognized as extraordinary. To not just be a part of the crowd.” Chat said. “So even though they want to be different, there’s a solidarity there, too. They’re all different, but they’re still accepted.”

“And you think that _not_ having some grand ambition would make you weird?” Ladybug tilted her head curiously. “I mean, statistically speaking, isn’t that more realistic?”

“Sure.” Chat shrugged. “I mean, the odds of a musician becoming a moderately famous musician are about one in ten thousand. The odds of becoming a famous athlete are less than two percent. But it’s not about realism, it’s about _fantasy_. Being a teenager is about finding yourself: you want to be the one that rises above your peers to beat the odds and be amazing.”

Ladybug flopped back with a groan. “This is really discouraging.”

“It is. But it shouldn’t be - not really.” Chat smiled down at her. “After all, without those few people who are really determined and who actually _do_ make it, what would be the inspiration for anyone else to try?”

“But if the odds are _that_ bad…” Ladybug started.

“Hey Bug?” Chat leaned back too, arm propped at an angle as he lounged on his side next to her. He waited until she turned her head and looked at him. “What are the odds of becoming a superhero?”

Ladybug blinked.

“So, you’ve already kind of beaten the odds.” Chat pointed out. “Why stop now?”

“But this isn’t something we worked for - we were chosen.” Ladybug rebutted. “A lot of it was chance.”

“Sure.” Chat nodded. “And a lot of becoming a famous musician or athlete or astronaut or...I don’t know, _fashion designer_ , are chance. You have to be in the right place at the right time. But how do you think you _get_ to that place?”

Ladybug studied him silently, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“By working hard.” Chat continued. “You work and study and continue to try, because the better you are personally, the more likely you are to be in that place to have that chance. If you don’t follow your dreams, then you’ll… What are you looking at?”

Ladybug’s grin split her face as she rolled up on her side to place her finger on the tip of his nose. “ _You_ , Monsieur, should be a motivational speaker.”

Chat’s eyes crossed comically as he studied her finger, then jerked up as she laughed. “I wasn’t trying to ramble.” He sounded abashed. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Ladybug rolled upwards, standing and stretching. Chat sat up behind her, grinning when she swivelled to stretch out a hand to help him to his feet. “This conversation had gotten way too dark and serious, anyway.”

Chat chuckled in embarrassment and rubbed the back of his neck. “Would it help if I said that Plan A is still my go-to plan?”

“Plan A?” Ladybug’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“Yeah.” Chat grinned. “Save Paris, defeat Hawkmoth, and have a national holiday dedicated to my heroism.”

Ladybug laughed, and Chat’s hand darted out to catch hers, his grin morphing into a mischievous smirk. 

“Then,” he added, stepping a little closer and leaning down into her personal space, “I’m going to convince you to marry me. If you don’t want to live in Majorca, that’s fine.” He added magnanimously. “But I insist that we at least honeymoon there.”

“You’re cute.” Ladybug smirked and used her free hand to pat him on the head condescendingly. “But the odds of that happening are about on par with you becoming a supermodel - and the odds of _that_ are about one in twelve thousand. You like math: calculate the percentage chance of that.” 

Chat’s mouth dropped open and he blinked at her in shock before bursting out into loud laughter. He laughed so hard that he dropped her hand to bend over and clutch his stomach. He was laughing so hard he was _wheezing._

Satisfied that she had steered her partner from his melancholy mood _and_ made her point, Ladybug slung her yo-yo over a nearby streetlight and swung away.

**Author's Note:**

> Why yes Marinette, you _did_ make your point. Just not in the way you intended.


End file.
